Choke
by perhelion
Summary: This wasn't the first time he'd woken up like this, and it certainly wouldn't be the last. The frayed, dirty collar that had been around his neck since kittenhood was far too tight.


Scourge woke up gasping for air. He scrambled for a moment underneath the dumpster, unable to breathe, before finally, cool, night air managed to force itself into his airway. Taking great gulps of it, he stayed half crouched where he was, ignoring the stinging pain where his head had hit the metal moments before. This wasn't the first time he'd woken up like this, and it certainly wouldn't be the last. The frayed, dirty collar that had been around his neck since kittenhood was far too tight, now that he was an adult, and it nearly always felt constricting, despite his small stature, pinching and squeezing the fur and skin underneath so that he struggled to breathe, even on his better days. When he had managed to fill his lungs, Scourge moved to groom his fur, smoothing down the ruffled fur that had fluffed up in panic. Of course, he was sure it wouldn't be an issue to remove the collar, but that would be unthinkable. It was a sign of his power, the many teeth that stuck out at odd angles from the fabric. Even now, though, he could feel their bony and protruding edges digging into his neck, and for good measure, he took a few more deep breaths. Exhausted though he was, he slipped out from underneath the dumpster, and then leaped to his usual place atop the closed lid. Surveying the alley, he noted that most of his cats were still slumbering. One was at the entrance, keeping watch, he assumed, and a couple were still meandering around. He didn't expect many to be awake, as it was the middle of the night, and after staying where he was for a bit longer, he leapt back down. He was torn for a moment, wondering whether he should slip back under the dumpster or walk around for a bit. He glanced underneath it for a moment, wrinkled his nose in distaste, and then turned away, stalking off towards the street. The cat at the entrance nodded to him, mumbling a respectful greeting, to which Scourge did not respond, and instead set off down the sidewalk. The rough pavement scraped his pads, and he thought wearily that this was no place for a cat to live. Continuing on, he saw shadows shrink back out of the corner of his eyes, undoubtedly other members of his extensive clan. He knew why they feared him, though the idea was also mildly amusing. He was much smaller than most of them, and hardly fearsome at a glance, but they knew as well as he that in a fight, Scourge would be the one to come out on top. His leadership had been challenged before and many knew that it was unwise to try. Reaching a fence, Scourge leapt up on top of it, swaying on the edge for a moment before steadying himself and starting to walk along it, glancing down into the twoleg garden on the other side. Lush bushes lined the fence, and taking a deep sniff, he could scent catmint, which began bringing back hazy memories of kittenhood. He paused, shaking his head to clear it, and continued on. He couldn't be thinking of soft beds and the warm bodies of littermates and parents. He was a ruthless killer, the ruler of twolegplace. With a snort, he jumped down from the fence, this time landing on soft grass. Ahead of him was the forest that bordered his territory. Clearer memories surfaced, of being tackled by a massive tabby, his ear being ripped, blood welling at scratches along his tiny body. Scourge suddenly snarled, his claws sinking into the soft ground beneath him. He'd like to see that tabby now, rip his throat out, show him a lesson- He forced himself to calm down, closing his eyes and gritting his teeth. After several moments, he had relaxed and opened his eyes again to stare out, watching the edge of the wood, idly imagining the forest cats lurking inside. He stayed where he was for a while, sweeping his gaze over the area beyond his territory, the unknown that had pushed him away when he was young. Pushing his troubling thoughts away, he took a deep breath, hearing a wheeze in his lungs and trying to ignore the mild feeling of panic it brought with it. He really despised this collar. He coughed, and then stood, casting another glance at the shady forest, and then he leapt back up onto the fence. With a contemptuous flick of his tail and another wheezy cough, he had disappeared on the other side of the fence, back into the polluted Twolegplace. 


End file.
